


Pulse

by geekbaits



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Drabble Fic, F/M, I'll add as I go along coz I DON'T know what i'm doing lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 09:58:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8840191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekbaits/pseuds/geekbaits
Summary: In which a magical girl doesn't really understand the societal rules of the magic community.Hogwarts!AU. Drabble fic.





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> My attempt at a Hogwarts!AU. I thought it’d be interesting to have Marinette be from a magical family, but to have her parents’ magical abilities be totally different as magic, generally speaking, comes in different forms depending on your culture. 10 points for whatever house you’re in if you can guess what kind of “magic” Mari’s mom uses.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng couldn’t say that she had a completely abnormalchildhood. She was born to two loving people in the heart of Paris; her earliest memories included the young girl being tickled relentlessly by her father’s thick mustache as he pressed kisses against her cheeks and curling up in her mother’s lap as bedtime stories were read to her. 

Marinette baked cookies, cakes, croissants and macarons with her father and decorated the delicious pastries with her mother. She even had a pet: a precious little cat named Tikki, who had been a present for Marinette’s eighth birthday.

At the surface, Marinette _felt_ that she was living an average life.That is, if you looked past the ovens that kept themselves heated and the dishes that kept themselves clean. In the mornings, Marinette and accompany her father down to the kitchens, where he would whip out his wand and, with a practiced flick of his wrist, breathed _life_ into their little bakery.

“Papa, I wanna try!” 6-year-old Marinette said one day, excitedly wiggling in her seat as she watched her and her father’s 4th batch of baguettes load themselves into the oven. 

Tom Dupain chuckled and leaned down, kissing Marinette’s brow.

“One day, little one. I promise you’ll get your own wand, but for now, we’re just gonna have to do our best without magic,” Tom stood up at his full height, peering down at his daughter, “Now, do you think you can make these cakes look pretty yourself?”

Marinette rolled up her sleeves, “Absolutely!”

It wasn’t just her father’s magic wand that Marinette had develop and interest to, but also her mother’s magical talents, which, according to her father, were uncommon to Europe. Over the years, Marinette had become very familiar with the magic from her maternal side, as her mother had used it quite often to heal an injuries her clumsy daughter may have sustained.

“Maman!” Sabine Cheng placed her watering can down on the kitchen counter, turned around, and crouched low to meet her 8-year-old’s tearful gaze.

“What’s wrong, mon chou?” 

Marinette pointed down at her knee, “I tripped again and it _hurts_!” Big, fat tears rolled down Marinette’s face as she leaned forward to press her face into her mother’s neck. Sabine ran gentle fingers through her daughter’s dark hair, and scooped Marinette up, carrying the little girl to the back of the house.

“Let’s get that patched up then,” Sabine murmured, setting Marinette down on a pentagram Purification Circle. After a few accidents involving Marinette sustaining _some_ sort of injury, Sabine had made it a point to always have one drawn in the house. Marinette sat in the center of the circle as Sabine set down five markers, carefully driving each marker into the ground where a point of the pentagram met the Purification Circle.

Unlike her father’s magic, Marinette’s mother’s magic didn’t require any words. Marinette watched as her mother knelt down and pressed her hand on the edge of the circle; bright beams of light shot out from the five markers, cloaking little Marinette in its light. 

She could feel the wound on her knee closing.  

Sabine beamed warmly at her daughter’s fascination, “Someday, you’ll learn how to do it too.”

Awed, the young girl gently brushed her fingers against the healed wound. “I will?” she asked hopefully.

Sabine pressed a kiss to Marinette’s forehead, “You’re my daughter. Of course you will, just like you’ll earn your wand.”

Marinette was quite excited for her future.


	2. here comes something wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mari isn’t really cool with pureblood elitism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get a little bit of background regarding what Marinette's grandfather does and the *~mystery~* behind her mother's magic. Also, we're introduced to some new characters.

Marinette _loved_ her grandfather. She loved how Papé always brought her sweets from foreign lands he had visited and all of the stories he had to share. Marinette loved that Papé _always_ made time for her, no matter how busy he was. She loved how tiny he was in comparison to her father, his only son. She loved how boisterous and lively he was and how easily he could command the attention of the room. 

Most of all, Marinette loved that her grandfather almost _always_ took her with him on his trips to the Ministry over in London. 

The last time they were in London was a few years ago, and they had made a brief stop in Diagon Alley so that Papé could buy Marinette an early birthday present: her calico cat, Tikki.

10-year-old Marinette bounced excitedly as her grandfather pulled her through the Ministry of Magic. The young witch had never been _inside_ the Ministry’s main building before and was quite taken with the sights and sounds. Christmas was coming and the halls were decked with bells and holly. 

The main floor of the Ministry was an explosion of holiday festivities, not unlike Marinette’s home. Celestina Warbeck was crooning Christmas carols from the loudspeakers above and Marinette momentarily paused to listen, allowing the music to wash over her. 

She caught scent of gingerbread and pumpkin pastries and could spot the little in-house bakery a little ways away from where she and her grandfather stood. Marinette looked at her father, silently asking him with large blue eyes. 

He chuckled.

“When we’re done, we can stop by to grab something before we head to Diagon Alley,” Papé promised, gently tugging Marinette away.

Marinette could see the lights and trimming wrapped around the thick columns that went up to the ceiling; a tiny forest of Christmas trees that were fully decorated littered the floor. Elves congregated around the trees, working to complete each display. 

As Marinette and her grandfather approached the working elves, they all turned to them and bowed in greeting, a gesture that caught the attention of many bypassers. 

Marinette waved at the elves, failing to notice the looks of disdain she and her grandfather received from the strangers who witnessed the friendly exchange between two witches and the elves.

“Papé, what are we doing here?” Marinette asked.

He squeezed his granddaughter’s hand, “Papé’s got some work to do. It’ll be really quick, I promise.”

Marinette’s eyes were as large as saucers. 

Marinette had heard from her parents that Papé’s line of profession was an especially honorable one, but she had no idea what his job entailed. Knowing her grandfather, Marinette was willing to bet that he made his living helping people. 

“Papé, do you help people?” Marinette questioned, looking up at her grandfather. 

Papé beamed at his granddaughter and ruffled her hair, “I try to. Papé makes sure _everyone_ has equal rights.”

Marinette grinned and clutched her grandfather’s hand tightly in her own. “I wanna help people too!” she proclaimed. 

Papé kissed Marinette on the crown of her head, “And so you will, mon petit coccinelle.”

\--

Marinette’s first run-in with pureblood society didn’t go as expected. Her grandfather had left the young girl on a bench right outside his office, excusing himself for a few moments. Marinette waited patiently, curiously observing the moving pictures mounted on the walls. 

A quiet _ouch!_ beckoned her attention from the pictures; to Marinette’s left, a house-elf clutched his foot in pain. She immediately hopped off the bench and ran over to the elf.

“Are you okay?” she asked, bending over to catch the injured elf in the eye, “What happened?”

The elf seemed to be shocked at the little girl’s display of concern. He stared at the witch, his gray eyes wide in wonder, all pain forgotten. When Marinette’s sapphire gaze snapped up to meet the elf’s, his cleared his throat, suddenly remembering himself.

“I-It’s nothin--” the elf had begun to say before being interrupted by the strange little witch. 

“You’re bleeding!” Marinette squawked, pointing one stubby little finger at his foot, “Here, let me help you!”

“It’s quite alright, miss,” the elf tried to reassure her, but Marinette was not having it. After all, if Papé could dedicate his time to helping people, then she could definitely help heal this elf’s wound. Marinette took her bookbag off her shoulders and, after rummaging through its contents, pulled out a piece of chalk.

“I wanna help,” Marinette reiterated, casting the elf a comforting smile.

The elf said nothing, only watched in awe as the strange little girl drew a pentagram enclosed in a circle on the ground. Marinette helped the elf onto the floor and helped move his injured foot to the center of the circle. 

The elf’s ears twitched in curiosity.

“Young miss, if I may ask, could you possibly tell me what you’re doing?” 

“I’m healing you!” Marinette replied, driving her five markers into each point of the pentagram seal, “My maman showed me how to do it. Just hang on a sec, ‘kay?”

Just like she learned from her maman, Marinette pressed the palm of her hand to the circle and watched with glee as light shot out from her markers. When the bright beam subsided, Marinette checked her work, letting out a whoop of joy when she saw that she had healed the house-elf’s foot.

“ _And there ya go!”_ Marinette chirped, proudly gesturing to her work. The elf was ecstatic, bowing to Marinette and thanking her for her kindness. She was so proud, she couldn’t wait to tell Papé! 

After waving good-bye to the little elf, Marinette skipped towards Papé’s office door, excitedly wiggling in place, waiting for her grandfather to come out. He’d be _so_ proud. She’d never _healed_ someone by herself before. Maybe she’d be as good as Maman if she kept practicing.

“I can’t believe how simple that was,” Marinette laughed to herself, round cheeks warming with happiness. 

Someone cleared their throat behind Marinette. 

Whirling around, Marinette came face to face with two people: an older man, who looked to be about her father’s age and a young blonde girl who was holding his hand, her dark blue eyes narrowing suspiciously at Marinette. Marinette smiled softly at the newcomers.

“Can I help you?” she asked politely, as her mother taught her.

“Young lady,” the man said in fluent French, the tone of his voice bordering on dangerous, “Did you just cast a spell to heal an _elf_?” 

Cast a spell? Marinette wasn’t too sure what he meant by that; after all, casting spells would require a wand, which Marinette was too young to have. She shook her head, “I didn’t.”

“Don’t lie!” the blonde girl piped up, “We _saw_ you use magic on an _elf_!” Marinette couldn’t help but to notice the girl’s nose wrinkling up in offense that Marinette had healed an _elf_. 

She still didn’t understand what the big deal was.

“Well, yes that was magic,” Marinette replied slowly, still confused, “But I did not cast a spell.” 

“Do you think we’re dumb?!” the girl sneered, “ _My_  daddy’s the Minister of Magic, _he_ would know what _casting a spell_ looks like.”

“But I didn’t.” Marinette reasoned, though her words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

“Young lady,” the man, apparently the _Minister of Magic_ , started, “I do hope that you are aware that it is in face _illegal_ for children to use magic and that there could be some serious consequences for breaking the law.”

“Like what?” 

“Like you get expelled from _Hogwarts_!” the girl snapped, “You won’t get to go to magic school!”

To Marinette, these people weren’t making any sense at _all_. She didn’t have a wand, and she didn’t cast any spells. As a matter of fact, her Purification Circle was still intact, only a few yards away from where they all stood. If she could only prove to them that she wasn’t _lying,_ though Marinette wasn’t too sure they were interested in what she was saying.

“Young lady, what’s your name?” the man demanded, rather rudely. 

Marinette didn’t like the way the looked at her and if they wanted to be _mean_ , then _fine_. She could be just as _rude_  (even though Maman told her to always take the high road.) 

“I’m not allowed to give strangers my name,” she replied shortly, taking satisfaction in the flabbergasted look the Minister gave her. His daughter squawked, angrily throwing her arms about her.

“Well you have to!” she shouted, “You _broke_ the _law!_ Didn’t she, Daddy? She used magic to heal a dirty little elf!”

“Indeed,” he replied. 

To say that Marinette was shocked was an _understatement_. Using magic to heal a _dirty little elf_? It suddenly occurred to her that the expression the Minister and his daughter were looking at her with was _disgust._ Disgust that somehow she thought a house-elf was good enough for her to heal. 

She felt _enraged_ at the idea, but before Marinette could open her mouth, she felt a warmth at the back of her shoulders. She didn’t have to look to know that her grandfather had returned.

“What’s going on here?” Papé asked, “Minister Bourgeois. Miss Chloé.”

“Ah, Monsieur Dupain!” Minister Bourgeois greeted, “Is this little one yours?”

“My granddaughter,” Papé replied, “Now, what seems to be the problem.” 

Little Marinette, upset and determined _not to let those_ horrible people _have the last word_ , wrapped her arms around Papé’s waist and blurted out, “I used Alkahestry to heal a house-elf and they said I broke a law!”

“That’s because you _did_!” the little girl, now named Chloé, snapped, “Kids can’t use magic!”

“Monsieur Dupain, I’m sure you know what this means,” Minister Bourgeois asserted, his tone losing any kind of warmth that it had when he first spoke to Marinette; Marinette burrowed her face deeper into Papé’s cloaks. 

Papé set a gentle hand on top of his granddaughter’s head, soothing away her anger and anxiety. She strained to listen to Papé’s words.

“Minister Bourgeois, if I may point out here, children under the age of _eleven_  are exempt from his law and my granddaughter is 10,” Papé said, his voice still warm and comforting to Marinette’s ears, “Furthermore, _Alkahestry_ is not a magic form recognized by _any_ Ministry of Magic anywhere in Europe, as it comes from _China,_ where my granddaughter’s mother’s side comes from. No laws have been broken. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have somewhere to be. Good day.”

Papé ushered Marinette down the hall, back onto the main floor of the Ministry. She frowned, “I don’t think they liked that I healed an elf.”

Papé looked down at her, “What makes you say that?” he asked. 

She huffed, “I could just _tell,”_ Marinette’s nose scrunched up at the memory of the Minister and his daughter, staring at Marinette in disgust, “I don’t see what the big deal is! He was _bleeding_. You can’t just leave someone _bleeding_  just ‘coz they’re an elf! Papé, did I do something wrong? Was I _not_ supposed to heal the elf?” 

Papé tapped his chin thoughtfully, “Well, what do you think, mon chou?” 

Marinette burst, “ _I_ think it’s dumb to ignore a bleeding being! Maman taught me Alkahestry to heal, not to pick who _deserves_  to be healed. Oh, Papé, I’m so upset! They even said that I wouldn’t even go to Hogwarts because I _helped_ someone!” she clenched her fists, “If Hogwarts decided to not take me because of that, then I don’t _need_ to go to such a school and _why are you laughing, Papé?_!” 

Hazel eyes twinkled fondly at the indignant little girl, who huffed impatiently at her grandfather’s amusement. Papé kissed Marinette’s furrowed brow, “You’re definitely my granddaughter.” 

Marinette pouted, “Yeah, Papé, where have you been? And we were talking about Hogwarts!”

“You’ll get in,” he reassured.

Marinette didn’t quite believe him. That is, until her acceptance letter came in the mail on her 11th birthday, 5 weeks before the start of the school year. 


	3. 'cause that's the way things happen on the hogwarts express

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mari formally acknowledges her arch nemesis for the next seven years.

Getting onto the Hogwarts Express from Platform 9¾ was a lot simpler than Marinette had anticipated. Her mom, dad, and grandfather had accompanied her onto the platform, their presence soothing her nerves. She followed her father, whose gargantuan size she was rather grateful in this situation, as he plowed through the crowd like a hot knife through butter.

“C’mon, Mari, we’re almost there!” Tom announced, excitement twinkling brightly in his hazel eyes. Marinette drew closer to her mother, clutching the older woman’s robes. Sabine peered down at her daughter, offering Marinette silent comfort.

“M-Maman, are you guys _sure_ that I’ll be okay over there?”

“What are you saying, mon chou?” Tom boomed, suddenly appearing in Marinette’s face, “Of course you’ll be okay! You’ll be _better_ than okay! You’re gonna be sorted in a great house and make good friends and have a lot of fun! I’m actually a little jealous. Isn’t that right, honey?”

“Right,” Sabine agreed. She ran gentle fingers through Marinette’s dark hair, “Marinette, you’re starting a new chapter in your life. This is an _exciting_ moment. You’ll do just fine!”

Marinette wasn’t too sure. After all, she’d had little to no practice with her wand and she knew for a fact that Alkahestry wasn’t taught at school. She’d probably be able to get by on her bookwork and possibly potions classes, but everything else…

Sabine seemed to understand her fears.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Sabine said, “Just do your best, love. That’s all you can do. And if you ever need to come home, just send us an owl and we’ll have you on the first train back to Paris. Okay?”

Marinette perked up, “Okay.”

“That’s my girl!” Tom interjected. Marinette’s father swooped down and wrapped his large arms around her, squeezing her against his chest tightly. She laughed as Tom pressed kisses to her cheeks and forehead, his thick mustache tickling her. “Just do your best and everything’ll be all right! I’ll be sending your dessert packages _every week--”_

 _“_ \--Papa there’s _no_ way I’ll be able to eat that much--”

“-- _so you can share with your friends_! No daughter of mine is going to make do with British pastries, not when she has _me_ as her Papa!” 

Marinette sighed, accepting her father’s offer (as if she had a choice.) She turned to her mother and fell in her open arms, burying her nose in her short hair. Sabine kissed the top of Marinette’s head and rubbed her back soothingly, “Remember, love: you can always reach us.”

“Right, Maman.” Marinette lifted her face and kissed her mother on both cheeks, “I love you, Maman.”

“I love you too, ma petit coccinelle. Be good.”

When Marinette faced her grandfather, she wasn’t surprised to find that her bottom lip was quivering. Out of everyone back home, she knew that she’d miss Papé the most. Papé stood closest to the train, smiling down at his only granddaughter, the warmth of his hazel eyes comforting the ache already throbbing in young Marinette’s heart.

“Papé...” 

Papé said nothing, only offered his granddaughter his opened arms; Marinette shot across the platform in a matter of seconds, crashing into Papé and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She squeezed her eyes tightly, fighting the moisture that was beginning to well up there.

Papé chuckled lowly and patted Marinette’s back.

“You’ll be okay, Marinette,” Papé reassured. He squeezed Marinette and she hugged him back. She mumbled, “How can you be so sure?” 

The whistle of the train sounded, calling all passengers onboard. Marinette knew she had to let go, but stubbornly fought against it, wanting to stay with her parents and Papé. Gentle fingers pried her hold on Papé and Marinette sniffled, finally releasing her grandfather.

In one swift motion, Papé lifted Marinette onto the platform and kissed both her cheeks.

“I know because you’re Marinette,” he said at last, “Everything will be fine.”

The final warning whistle sounded and Marinette’s family gathered closer to give their final goodbyes; the young witch was close to tears by the time she was whisked away into the first empty compartment she found.

She waved out the opened window until her little family was out of sight and Marinette was well on her way to Hogwarts, with little Tikki nestled warmly in her robes.

Marinette sat in her empty compartment, thoughtfully staring out the window, quietly observing the passing trees and tiny cottages that sat at the edge of the forest they were plowing through. She wondered what it’d be like there; Marinette had heard stories from her father, who had been sorted into Hufflepuff, and Papé, who had been in Gryffindor, but would it be just like they had described?

And what house would she belong to? Was she brave like a Gryffindor, intelligent like a Ravenclaw, loyal like a Hufflepuff, or resourceful like a Slytherin? At this point, the only thing Marinette felt was nervous. 

Tikki mewed, peering up at her owner with wide, sapphire eyes. Marinette gave the kitten a gentle scratch under her chin.

“What do you think, Tikki? You think everything’s gonna be alright?” 

Seeming to sense Marinette’s nerves, Tikki rubbed her head against Marinette’s stomach, her purrs calming the youth witch immediately. Marinette beamed and peered out the window again, at last taking in the sights of the mountainous terrain the train had just met. Wide blue skies, almost as blue as Tikki’s eyes, and with gentle slopes curving downwards towards the water down below, Wildflowers bloomed between the summits, a mass of vibrant color brightening up the verdant greenery that peeked up between rocks and boulders.

A gentle knock at the door pulled Marinette from the breathtaking sight.

A spectacled young lady stepped through the door. Marinette could see from the robes that like herself, the newcomer was also a first year. 

“Hey,” the girl greeted, “Do you mind if I sit with you? All the other compartments are taken.”

“Not at all,” Marinette answered, gesturing for the girl to have a seat, “these kinds of trips are always better when you have someone to talk to.”

“Agreed,” the stranger closed the door behind her and climbed up on her seat, meeting Marinette’s inquisitive stare with a bright smile. She offered her a hand, “My name’s Alya. It’s my first year here.” 

“Me too!” Marinette took Alya’s hand, “I’m Marinette, and this is Tikki.”

For hours the girls talked, finding delight in the fact that they had a lot in common. Even Tikki caught onto their budding friendship and switched sides to nestle in Alya’s lap; she snoozed as the new friends talked over a lunch of the pastries Marinette’s papa had made. The girls discussed various topics, ranging from what houses they think they’d get sorted into to their homes back in Paris. Alya had shared that she was half-blood and that she had inherited her magic from her mother, who had fallen deeply in love with a muggle, the owner of the local zoo 20 years before.

“You mean Monsieur Cesaire?”

“Yep, that’s my Papa!” Alya confirmed, positively glowing.

“He’s so nice!” Marinette said, “I remembered he _really_ loved that panther when the zoo brought him in last Christmas.” 

Marinette shared her own family history as well. She talked about her father who was born from a pureblood family and her mother, whose magic wasn’t like hers, her father’s, or her grandfather’s. 

“So, your maman’s a witch?”

“Nope,” Marinette shook her head, “An Alkahestrist. It’s a different magic form from China, where her family’s from. Wand-wielders aren’t very common in China since our magic manifests in the form of Alkahestry.”

“Does that mean you can use it?” Alya was _definitely_ intrigued, with her warm eyes wide in wonder, waiting for Marinette’s response. Marinette smiled at her new friend, “I can, but since I’m going to Hogwarts to learn about witchcraft, I’m going to be home-trained with Alkahestry. Which is fine, since Maman said I was picking it up a lot faster than most kids our age.”

“Wow, I--” Alya had started to say, but was suddenly cut off at the sound of hollering in the aisle outside their compartment. The girls shared a quizzical glance before standing up together, Tikki now awake in Alya’s arms. Throwing open the compartment door, Marinette and Alya were able to catch a part of the commotion. 

“Chlo, c’mon...”

“Adrikins,” Marinette’s eyes narrowed, ears perking up at the unpleasant sound of Chloé Bourgeois’ voice, “I’m just telling these muggle-borns how things go in the wizarding world.” 

Chloé stood in front of two other first years, a large boy whose fists were clenched in anger and a short, round girl with braided, multi-colored hair, hiding behind the boy. 

“I’m asking you to leave us alone,” the boy seethed, his barely-contained rage apparent on this face. Chloé didn’t seem to get the message.

“My daddy’s the Minister of Magic and he says he’s going to make sure that _all_ muggle-borns return their magic to the _pureblood_ families from whom they _stole_ it from.”

Marinette didn’t need to hear anymore and, to her delight, neither did Alya. Both girls were out of their compartment and wedged in between the two muggle-born students and Chloé Bourgeois. 

“That’s enough,” Alya commanded.

“You have some nerve,” Marinette scolded, “Coming on here and starting that nonsense. You owe them an apology!” 

Chloé’s eyes widened a bit as she took in the sight of Marinette, but quickly reigned in her surprise. A nasty sneer already starting to form on her lips; Marinette stood a little taller, silently _daring_ the Minister’s daughter to continue. 

“Oho!” Chloé cackled, “Look who it is! If it isn’t the _elf whisperer_. Tell me, have you been consorting with any more beasts? More house-elves, perhaps? Centaurs? _Muggle-borns_?” 

Marinette didn’t say anything; she felt a bit winded after listening to what Chloé Bourgeois had to say. She was flanked by two people on either side of her: a young boy with bright golden hair and iridescent green eyes, looking positively uncomfortable at the situation and a small red-haired girl with large thick-rimmed spectacles. The red head spoke, her voice meek and high-pitched to Marinette’s ears.

“Chloé, who is this?” 

“Oh, this?” Chloé gestured carelessly to Marinette, “This girl’s grandfather’s Julien Dupain. You know, that crazy old man who thinks magical beasts, _mudbloods_ \--”

“Chloé!” the young man said, aghast. (Marinette wasn’t too sure what his deal was, but she wasn’t too focused on him at the moment.)

“--and _half-bloods_ deserve the same rights as everyone else. You know, the old windbag who keeps fighting with Daddy?”

Marinette blanched at Chloé’s disrespectful description of her grandfather, fists clenched tightly. 

“You keep my grandfather’s name out of your mouth,” she warned lowly. Chloé didn’t seem to detect the environment that she had single-handedly created. She continued, with her red-haired friend hanging onto every word.

“She was supposed to be _expelled_ from Hogwarts after Daddy and I caught her healing an _elf_.”

“ _No_!” the red-head gasped.

“Yes!” Chloé confirmed, eyeing Marinette yet again with _those_ eyes, “And she lied to Daddy’s face and said that she _wasn’t_ using magic, even though she totally was. And on an elf!”

The young witch knew that fighting with her wand was out of the question, but she still had her chalk and transmutation markers tucked away in the satchel that hung at her side...

Marinette quickly dismissed the thought, not wanting to waste her supplies on the likes of Chloé Bourgeois.

“For your information,” Marinette burst, startling Chloe and her red-headed friend at the strength of her interjection, “You can’t _steal_ magic from magical beings, and regardless of whatever false sense of entitlement you think you have--” Chloé gasped at the jab, which Marinette promptly ignored, “-- _they_ have as much as right to attend this school as everyone else does! They were born with it. That’s _it._ Secondly, I _healed_ a _bleeding_ living _being_ with magic from my _maman’s_ side. Completely _out_ of the Ministry of Magic’s jurisdiction. Are you aware that magic exists in a different form in Asia? No, you don’t because _you’re too busy_ sniffing around for magical pedigrees like a _dog_.”

Alya laughed.

“I would hope you learn how to not being an _insufferable_ piece of work while we’re at school, but I have low expectations,” Marinette took satisfaction in the red blooming in Chloé’s cheeks. Rolling her eyes, she turned to the pair of muggleborn students and offered them a gentle smile, “Um, if you two want, you can join us in our compartment. I have a lot of pastries my papa made?” 

The girl and the boy quickly nodded and hurried in the car, leaving Marinette and Alya alone with Chloé, whose face was lit up in embarrassment, the red-head, mouth wide open in shock, and the blonde boy, who stared back at Marinette with an unfathomable look.

Marinette’s lips curved into a soft smile as she said to Chloé, “Remember: Keep my grandfather’s name _out_ of your mouth.” 

Together, Marinette and Alya headed back to their car and slid it closed with finality, warmly greeting the newcomers to their compartment. 

The ride to school was a lot more exciting than Marinette had anticipated. They finally arrived at Hogwarts at sundown.


End file.
